


Innocence Ensnared

by Heeley



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Horror, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Threesome, Triad - Freeform, Violence, and probably a thousand tags I can’t think of, bad language, sex sex sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeley/pseuds/Heeley
Summary: Trapped in an impossible situation, Hermione, Regulus and Rabastan must join forces to survive. But can they put aside their differences and figure out what they must do? No body ever said love was easy.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was beta’d by the amazing CatherineMorgenstern. She offered advice, support and endless enthusiasm. You’re the best, lovely.

The rain came out of nowhere. A hard driving downpour that exploded from the sky with a loud crack and instantly soaked Hermione to the skin. She shivered as the cold droplets seeped through her clothes and onto her flesh, coating her body in ice. Bending over to protect the books she'd only just purchased, she rushed into the nearest shop she could find. A dusty looking place that displayed several large paintings in the window. By the time she'd fumbled the door open and stepped inside, she was shaking like a leaf and dripping a puddle onto the stained wooden floor.

Holding the books away from her drenched robes she glanced around the dark interior. It was rectangular in shape, small and claustrophobic, like it had been squeezed between the neighbouring shops as an afterthought. There was a candle sat on the cluttered counter top, throwing out a flickering yellow light that made the shadows dance and twist in a sinister way that unsettled her. She couldn't see the back of the room at all, the weak light unable to penetrate the solid darkness that hovered there. Dozens of faded paintings dotted the walls, each circled by an elaborate gilded frame. For a long second Hermione stared at them, taking in the half finished landscapes and blank canvases. They were neither good, nor bad, merely average representations of rather dreary locations. A forest. A moor. A field.

But for some reason they made her feel uneasy. A squirmy, churning sensation that felt like her stomach was being stirred with a fork. She stepped further into the shop, breathing in the sharp scent of linseed and dry feathers. It was unpleasant enough that she wrinkled her nose, gently snorting the smell away. On the wall in front of her there was a windswept beach scene, with slate grey waves crashing onto a sandy shore, the white breakers dusting the sand with lacy foam. She leant closer, taking in the textured surface and individual brush strokes, marvelling at the magic used to capture an image and forever hold in constant motion.

Dimly she was aware of the door rattling open behind her, and heavy footsteps entering the shop. The rain continued to make a loud hissing noise as it pounded the street outside. Yet, she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the simple seascape. It wasn't even pretty. Not really. The colours were washed out and as her eyes traced the blurred shapes of rocks that hugged the beach, she spotted a simple ram-shackled hut set in the corner. It was sitting on the edge of a grassy piece of land, it's door facing the crashing waves. Beyond the hut the grey smudge of a mountain ate up most of the sky.

Frowning she reached forward to press her fingers to the rough surface.

"Do you always touch what doesn't belong to you?" An amused voice drawled from behind. "How very Gryffindor of you, Granger."

Hermione snatched her hand from the painting and spun around. Two men were standing beside the counter-top. Each dressed in black robes that sparkled with diamond bright raindrops. They were of a similar height. One had thick, nut-brown waves of hair and deep blue eyes, and the other had raven locks and a steely grey stare that seemed to knife straight through her.

Her heart thudded once, twice, before frantically catching up with itself and slamming against her ribs in pure panic.

Rabastan Lestrange and Regulus Black.

The hands clutching the books to her chest tightened until the knuckles bleed white. Every muscle straining against the urge to bolt and never look back. Her gaze flew to the door behind them, gauging whether or not she could make it to the rain flooded street unscathed.

"Now, now, Granger," Rabastan said, "we wouldn't want you to get wet," he grinned cheekily and ran his eyes down her body, "Not yet anyway."

Heat flooded her cheeks as she dropped her books and fumbled for the wand hidden up the sleeve of her robe. "Stay away from me."

Lestrange held up his hands in mock surrender. "No need for that, darling girl. I was only being friendly."

A strangled laugh caught in the back of her throat. The world truly had gone mad if two Death Eaters were professing to be friendly to her. She adjusted the grip on her wand, eyes once again darting to the door. It looked further away this time. She knew logically that it wasn't. It was fear crawling into her brain and playing tricks on her, but still, reaching it would be impossible. Not only because of the distance, but also because they were standing in front of the bloody thing.

Her eyes darted nervously back to them. Rabastan was looking around the shop with half hearted interest, his lightly tanned hands now tucked into the pockets of his robes. Rugulus was still staring at her. A coolly assessing look that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up in startled fear. The hand holding her wand was slick with sweat and trembling badly. She shouldn't have come. The others would be furious with her. She was furious with herself. Her life finished, all so she could have some more books on subjects she already knew everything about. And of course she couldn't wait, not even a minute for Tonks to check that Ginny was safe. No, she'd just had to wander off, arrogantly assuming she'd be safe to visit her favourite bookshop. The one that nobody knew about because she hadn't wanted them to know it sold more questionable titles. Now here she was, facing her worst nightmare and none of her friends would ever know. Harry desperately needed her and she'd practically delivered herself to Voldemort on a silver platter.

But how could she have known? There hadn't been a Death Eater sighting in months. Everyone was breathing a much needed sigh of relief, even if they all knew it was just the calm before the storm hit them with vicious force. The Weasley's had even organised Bill and Fluer's wedding for next week. Sure it was safe enough to hold the event.

Blinking away the threat of impending tears, she jutted out her chin and glared. "You won't take me without a fight."

A delighted smile curled Rabastan's lips, "you're going to play with us then?"

Hermione froze in terror, her churning stomach dropping to her feet. "I-"

"We didn't come here for you," Regulus' voice coolly interrupted, pointedly ignoring Rabastan's pout. "We merely wished to shelter from the rain."

"Oh." She glanced again at the door, her eyes wide and desperate. When she looked back, Rabastan was standing beside her. The breath hissed out of her lungs, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. She hadn't seen or heard him move. And yet suddenly, he was close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him in tumbling waves and smell the light spicy scent of soap he'd used in the morning.

He smiled wickedly at her yelp of alarm, staring directly into her eyes as he slowly began to crouch down. Hermione pressed herself against the wall, flinching when the frame of the painting dug into her spine. She flicked the tip of her wand against the side of his cheek, her hand shaking but steady enough to cast if she needed to. Her mouth had dried to the point where swallowing became difficult and every breath an effort she almost didn't want to make. The smile never left Rabastan's face, if anything it grew wider when her wand touched his skin. Perfect white teeth glinting in the flickering light.

It seemed to last forever. Hermione clenching her wand, Rabastan crouched at her feet, Regulus hovering like an icy shadow on the edge of her vision. And then Lestrange was pushing back up. Hermione had to tip her head back slightly to maintain the stare. Determined not to let him out of her sight and perform one of his sneaking up on her tricks again.

"Here," he pushed the books he'd picked up into her stomach, "take your books and go, darling girl." The smile melted from his face, leaving behind harder, colder features. "Before we change our minds."

Hermione carefully removed her wand from his cheek, slowly dropping it to her side so she could reach for the books. "Thank you."

Amusement lurked in the depths of his eyes at her politeness. She wanted to tell him that she didn't mean it. Not really. It was the manners her parents had drilled into her from childhood, polite words that were now just a reflex. Words said before her brain had a chance to stop them. In reality she wasn't grateful to him at all. Why would she be? He was a killer. A death Eater. One of Voldemort's favoured few.

Taking her books, Hermione stepped past him, twisting at the hip so she could keep them both in sight. When she was nearer to Regulus, she switched her attention to him, holding her breath as she inched past. The edge of his robes brushed hers in passing and she shuddered at the blank way he watched her. He was nothing at all like Sirius, who practically vibrated with life and reeked of mischief. Oh, they looked the same. Same eyes. Same hair colour. They even shared the same aristocratic features. But they were fundamentally different. She risked one more look at him before reaching the door. His face had never seen humour or had the skin stretched by a smile. She doubted very much that he even knew how.

Turning her back she reached for the handle and pulled. It didn't move. She tried again, this time rattling the door in it's frame. It still wouldn't budge. Biting her lip she tired one more time with the same result.

"The door won't open." She twisted back around to face the two Death Eaters. "You locked it didn't you?"

"What?" Rabastan strode forward, brushing her aside and trying the door for himself.

It didn't move.

Frowning he glanced at Regulus before withdrawing his wand and pointing it at the warped wood.

"Alohomora,"he muttered.

The door remained stubbornly shut.

"Fuck," he said. More perplexed than worried.

Still staring at the door, he gestured distractedly for Hermione to back away. She complied, walking backwards until she bumped into Regulus. Her elbow caught his ribs and the books dropped out of her arms, hitting the floor with a collection of dull thuds. She stared in horror, a quick apology springing from her lips but the Death Eater ignored her, instead watching as Rabastan cast spell after spell at the uncooperative door.

Neither of them seemed the slightest bit alarmed. Bemused, perhaps irritated, but not alarmed. Unlike Hermione, whose skin was trying to crawl free of her body, she could feel it, itching and slithering on her bones. Her teeth were chattering and a little voice in the back of her mind was telling her to run, run, run. But where? Her frantic brain throws up. How?

She turns from the two Death Eaters and her jumble of books, taking a hesitant step towards the back of the shop. A cool hand circles her wrist, fingers biting deep and halting her advance. Her head whipped around to see that Regulus has reached across to grab her. He isn't looking at her, all she can see is a slice of jaw and the curve of a cheek as he continues to watch Rabastan throw progressively more powerful spells at the door.

"Try the window," Black murmurs.

Lestrange stops mid cast, pivoting slightly and aiming his wand at the dirt smeared glass. A glittering jet of blue light flies from the tip of his wand, hitting the panes and... doing nothing.

"Fuck it!" his voice lashed out, making Hermione flinch.

A grim silence fell around them. The rising tension thickening the air and making it hard to breathe. Rabastan and Regulus glanced at each other in a quick moment of unspoken communication. When Regulus pulled out his wand and shoved her between the two of them, she knew they were in deep trouble. More trouble than two Death Eaters stumbling upon her, seemingly by accident.

Her own wand was still clasped tightly between her fingers, the smooth wood pressing reassuringly into her skin. She licked her dry lips, tasting the bitter mineral of cast spells. Behind her, Rabastan drew closer, his warm breath brushing the top of her head.

"Lead the way then, Reg." His voice held the tiniest hint of humour as he addressed the other Death Eater.

Regulus replied with silence. Icy and splinter edged. He took one step forward, then halted at a shuffling sound that came from the back of the shop. Hermione held her breath. Every muscle tensing in fear. She honestly thought that if someone were to tap her at that moment, she would shatter into a thousand pieces. The shuffling sound came closer, morphing into the dry scrape of footsteps. Unable to bare looking at the midnight shoulder of Regulus any longer, Hermione leant to the side and peeked around his arm.

And blinked at what she saw.


	2. Two

It was a woman. A wizened old woman with skin that resembled dried mushrooms and tufty cotton wool hair. She was bent over, the top of her spine forming a small hump and giving her the appearance of a turtle. The scuffling sound came from her feet as she shuffled across the floor towards them. She was no taller than Hermione's chin and so thin that her bones made knobbly lumps that pushed at the paint splattered robes she wore. A pair of thick rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose, which drooped down to touch her lips.

"What's this now? Umm?" she muttered, with a voice like marbles clicking together.

Hermione felt the fear that filled her chest untangle, and bemusement take its place. She stepped out from between the two silent Death Eaters, lowering her wand but keeping it clasped tightly in her palm.

"Hello," she gave the woman a polite smile, "we came in to shelter from the rain and the door seems to have locked behind us."

The woman peered at the door, squinting her eyes into two straight slits. "Raining you say?"

"Yes and-"

"Open the door." Regulus interrupted coldly, biting out each word.

A heavy silence fell. Hermione tensing as the woman slowly turned her gaze towards them.

"Ah, ignore my friend here," Rabastan slapped the stone faced Regulus on the shoulder, "what he means to say is, would you mind terribly opening the door for us please?"

The woman blinked myopically at them, reaching up with gnarled fingers to push her glasses further up and onto her nose. "Locked is it?"

"Quite," he replied with forced cheerfulness.

"Then I'll need the key," she muttered, continuing to stand in place like an overgrown wart.

A second passed. Then two. Then three. And still she didn't move.

"Umm...the key?" Hermione asked, aware of the Death Eaters growing anger.

"What's that dear?" The woman pulled at the elongated lobe of her ear. Squeezing and rubbing it between her finger and thumb.

Regulus took a menacing step forward, the air seeming to jump away from his icy veneer. "Open the fucking door."

"Locked is it?"

Hermione held her breath as a flicker of emotion rippled across Regulus' face. It was there and gone in a second, his face resuming its usual blank facade with impressive swiftness. But he couldn't banish the flare of temper that hovered around the edges of his eyes. It darkened the grey to the colour of wet slate and hinted at madness buried deep within, held in check by sheer strength of will.

"Yes, locked madam," Rabastan stepped towards Hermione and placed his hand on the small of her back, "this young lady here will help you to find the key." He pushed her forward.

She stumbled over her scattered books, catching her balance at the last moment and swinging around to face him. He was murmuring something unintelligible into the air next to Regulus' ear. They were both completely ignoring her. She huffed out an annoyed breath and turned to face the old woman. Up close she looked even more extraordinary. All of her features melting over the bones of her face, the skin paper thin and freckled with different coloured paints. Her hair looked to be made up of a collection of knotted strands, formed into untidy clumps and glued into place. She smelt strongly of paint thinner and cooked oil. But it was the eyes hidden behind the misted glass of her spectacles that held Hermione's attention. A bright copper colour that bled into gold and regarded her with a sharpness that could cut through steel.

"Can you remember where it is?" she asked.

The woman tilted her head. "What dear?"

"The key," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

There was something about her. A wrongness that scraped at the skin of her neck and made the tiny hairs there rise up in alarm. On the surface, the woman appeared to be perfectly harmless. A doddering, confused, old woman. But there was something... off... about her.

"Keys are often hiding in drawers," she stated, shuffling towards the cluttered counter-top.

Hermione stood frozen in place, not wanting to follow her behind the claustrophobic space that housed the drawers. Instead she inched towards the two whispering Death Eaters. No. Not whispering she realized when she heard the distinct dry paper rustle of conversation muffled by a spell. She took another step, halting when they both turned to face her, expressions cold and impenetrable.

Biting her lip, she backed away almost tripping over her discarded books once again. She glanced down at them, an odd sense of guilt souring her mouth at their crumpled state. But she didn't dare bend down and straighten them, there were simply too many enemies in the room, and who knew what hiding in the shadows. So instead she toed them aside and out of the way as she eyed one of the shifting paintings. A windswept moor, carpeted with pink flowered heather and scudding white clouds.

"Like that do you dear?"

Hermione jumped, her startled gaze falling on the old women as she ruffled noisily through the drawers.

"Umm, yes, it's very nice." She spoke to the top of her head as the rest of her was hidden by the large counter. "I like the seascape as well." She added when the silence began to mount. Thickening and pushing the air out of the room to leave behind dust and fear.

Rabastan sighed loudly gaining her attention. The moment their eyes met he mouthed, "find the key," to her.

Blinking, she edged her way towards the counter. Making sure to give the Death Eaters and their dark robes a wide birth. Or at least as wide as the narrow shop allowed. They were still holding their wands in white knuckled fists. The line of their shoulders tense and ready to cast. Hermione hesitated, not wanting to be caught in the middle if hexes should start to fly, but when Rabastan jutted his chin towards the women, she forced her feet to move. Honestly she just wanted out. And if that meant helping the woman to find a key, then she would happily comply. There wasn't much room between the counter-top and wall, so she had to turn sideways and inch her way into the narrow space. It was uncomfortable and crowded and utterly unpleasant.

The back of the counter was filled with drawers. Each one the width of her palm and stretching from one end to the other, and from top to bottom. Tiny brass handles were scattered along the front and between them yellowed slivers of paper were stuck, the edges curling and threatening to jump off at any moment. The woman had one drawer open and was moving her hand back and forth in long sweeping movements. Hermione glanced down and saw dusty corners, the scratched wooden bottom and nothing else. The drawer was empty.

Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach as the woman closed that drawer, opened another and began to search inside. Like the other it was empty. Tentatively, Hermione placed her hand into the dusty rectangle, hoping the contents had been placed under an invisibility charm. But all she could feel was air and the slightly gritty surface of the wooden bottom. She snatched her hand back, turning to look at the woman. One side of her face was in shadow, the other bathed in flickering yellow light. As if aware of Hermione's attention, she slowly twisted to face the young witch, sharp copper eyes overflowing with glee.

A smirk hovered on her face, hidden beneath the wrinkles and folds of skin. Hermione tightened the grip on her wand, squeezing the slim wood until it dug into her sweaty palm. Fear climbed her spine as she started to slowly back away, scraping her hip on the counter's sharp corner because she didn't dare turn away from her. The moment she slipped free of the tight space, the women resumed her searching. Playing a game that only she knew the rules to. And it was a game, Hermione had no doubts about that. A cruel, twisted, dangerous game.

Flickering her gaze to the side, she saw that the two Death Eaters had retreated to the door. Rabastan had his back turned and was fiddling with the handle. Regulus was facing the room, his flat gaze fixed on the old woman as she searched through the empty drawers. Striding towards them she stopped only when the edges of their robes brushed her ankles.

"There isn't a key," she hissed, "the drawers are empty."

Rabastan swung around, his eyes darkening to the colour of ink. "What?" he said, gaze snapping towards the woman.

"She's pretending to look." Hermione answered, shivering when she felt them switch into Death Eater mode. "We need to get out."

"Do you always state the obvious?" Lestrange said, as he exchanged a look with Regulus.

Frowning she glanced back at the woman. She was still quite happily shuffling through her bare drawers. "There might be an exit at the back of the shop," she whispered.

They were moving before she'd even finished speaking, once again tucking her between them. Rabastan held the top of her arm, squeezing with enough force to leave bruises. Regulus led the way, his spine a line of steel as he strode forward. And stopped. The area in front of him solidifying into a wall of solid darkness, trapping them in the shop with the old woman and her penny bright eyes.

"Fuck," Rabastan muttered so quietly only Hermione heard him.

In front of her Regulus swung to the side, wand raised and pointed at the woman. "Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of brilliant green light filled the shop, so bright and unexpected that Hermione felt blinded for a horrifyingly long second. She felt a wave of nausea fill her stomach and panic lodged itself in the back of her throat. He hadn't even tried incapacitating the women with another spell. Regulus had simply opted to kill her straight away. Clean, efficient, clinical.

Hermione looked towards the counter and froze.

The woman wasn't dead. She was standing calmly in place, her head cocked to the side, expression faintly mocking. A shocked silence fell, the two Death Eaters freezing beside her.

"Is that the best you can do?" The woman clicked her tongue in reproof. "Old Belle is very disappointed."

It was like her words, so smugly spoken, flipped a switch. Suddenly the Death Eaters began firing spell after spell. Each one falling short before they could hit their smirking target. Hermione backed away, her spine tapping the painting behind her. She didn't bother trying to cast, the air was already filled with multi coloured lights that quickly faded before another explosion of colours replaced them. Her throat burnt with the acrid taste of spent magic and a constant hiss filled her ears.

Whatever spell or charm the woman had cast was hugely powerful. It seemed to suck the hexes Regulus and Rabastan were throwing straight out of the air. Hermione shook her head as the two clearly powerful Death Eaters failed to break through. It didn't even look like it was weakening. She switched her gaze to the woman and saw her watching them intently. Those copper eyes eagerly swallowing the scene before her, as if waiting for something to happen.

Hermione didn't notice it at first. Too distracted by the lethal spells erupting from the two purebloods wands and trying desperately to push back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. But when Rabastan prepared to cast yet another spell his elbow collided with her ribs. She huffed out a pained breath, her hand jumping to her side to hold onto the pain.

"Keep back!" He snarled at her over his shoulder.

Hermione shoved out her other arm, her hand touching Regulus' shoulder and her elbow touching Rabastan's. "I am back!" she yelled.

Regulus glanced back at her, his furious gaze flicking from her to the wall she was leaning against. He blinked once, the fury replaced by an odd blankness as he dropped his wand. Seeing the movement, Rabastan twisted around, his brown hair falling into her eyes.

"Well, shite." He used the tip of his wand to push tentatively at the air in front of him.

It moved normally, so he tried stepping forward and couldn't. The area in front of him solidified and creeping closer. He was now so near to her that Hermione could feel the effort he was putting into trying to push forward. His body was shaking, the muscles hidden beneath his robes, bulging. Beside him Regulus was doing the same, pale hand splayed as he leant all of his weight against the solid air.

Panic filled her as the two Death Eaters began to press into her. She twisted sideways, seeking more room, but it lasted only a second before they were once again touching her. She was squeezed between them, Rabastan at her front, Regulus at her back. The crushing weight of them forcing the air from her lungs and flexing her ribs in an alarming way that she feared would snap them in two. Not a sliver of air separated them. She couldn't breathe. Whenever she tried, nothing happened. Her chest wouldn't expand. Her lungs wouldn't fill. It was terrifying, her mind screaming in fear. Blood rushed to her head, making her face and the place behind her eyes throb in perfect time with her heart.

She blinked, the edges of her vision fading into black and then blurring. Distantly, she was aware of the two Death Eaters struggling to breathe. Trying to push against the crushing wall of air. But it was too late. They were already dying. Just before she passed out she felt an odd tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach. Like she was travelling in a car and the road suddenly dipped. Then darkness spiralling down and pulling her into a deep, deep pit.

But all of a sudden, cold liquid ice embraced her.

She was turning, twisting and weightless. And cold, cold, cold. Her mouth gaped wide, seeking air but pulling in viscous salty water instead. Her eyes snapped open to see churning shades of grey. Frantically she kicked her legs, cursing the heavy clinging weight of her robes tangling around her feet. She reached up with her arms, hands breaking the surface and feeling a hard wind blow against her flesh. Her head followed, eyes stinging as she tried to breathe and cough at the same time.

The world around her was a seething mass of churning waves and angry sky. Confusion muddled her brain as she tried to make sense of it all. But the water rolled, crashing over her and sending her down into the murky depths once more. Hermione tried to swim but her robes weighed her down, seeming to want the water to claim her for its watery graveyard.

Reaching up she tried to fumble the ties of her robe free. Struggling with numb fingers and sodden material, only then realising that she didn't have her wand. White hot panic flashed through her but she quickly thrust it aside, telling herself survival was the most important thing. A lost wand wouldn't mean anything if she wasn't alive to use it. Finally she wriggled free of her robes, her lungs burning so fiercely it was pure agony to hold her breath. Blood pounded in her ears as her heart beat furiously in her chest.

It was harder this time to reach the surface. Her arms and legs incapable of moving with any strength. She was fading, fast. Sinking down, further and further. She gave one last desperate kick and broke free. The cold wind bathing her face as she heaved in breath after breath, filling her lungs and clearing her mind.

A flash of black at the corner of her eye made her turn in the undulating sea, trying to pinpoint what it was. She saw pale skin and dark hair, the blur of an arm as he knifed through the water. Regulus? Or Rabastan? It didn't matter, she followed who ever it was regardless. It was a few minutes before she noticed the large looming shape of a mountain on the horizon. The sight of it gave her hope and renewed her flagging energy. Her legs and arms shedding the pins and needles the icy water was inflicting and moving much more smoothly.

Once Hermione was nearer the shore, she didn't need to swim any more. The crashing waves content to throw her inland with bruising force. When her foot scraped sand, she almost wept. Would have done if the large breakers hadn't threatened to push her under with malicious spite.

Ahead of her, the two Death Eaters had made the grubby looking sand. Rabastan was laying on his back, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Next to him Regulus was studying their surroundings, his cold gaze sweeping the rocky outcrop. When he saw her wade out of the water, he raised a coal black brow but otherwise didn't comment. Hermione knew that look. He hadn't expected her to make it. Neither had Rabastan if the surprised glance he gave her was anything to go by.

She scowled, shedding the water as she marched towards them.

"Where are we?" She heard Rabastan pant to the sky.

Regulus shrugged, still looking around distractedly.

Hermione looked around in growing horror. Her gaze snagging on the rocks. On the mountain. The seething sea. The hut.

”We’re in the painting!” she gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions regarding the fic, feel free to contact me on here or tumblr: jheeley


	3. Three

Rabastan whipped his head around to face her. "What the fuck do you mean?" The wind pulled the words from his mouth the moment he opened his lips.

Hermione swallowed. "That woman in the shop had a painting just like this. We were leaning against it when that wall of magic squashed us."

She watched as the two Death Eaters exchanged a glance. It was the kind that only people who knew each other well shared. She recognised it at once. Her, Harry and Ron hand learnt to communicate in the same silent way.

"Apparate on three," Regulus said.

Hermione felt her eyes widen as fear pressed her shoulders down. Her gaze darted from Regulus to Rabastan, who was climbing to his feet and readying his wand.

"One, two-"

"Wait!" She took a wobbly step toward them. "I don't have my wand."

She saw the moment they heard her words and what they meant. And she also the saw the moment they chose to ignore them.

"Three."

Nothing happened. They didn't flicker or shimmer or move a single inch. But they did look furious as they tried again with the same result. Hermione felt her lips curve into a bitter smile. At least now she knew where she stood: on her own, with two lethal Death Eaters willing to abandon her to whatever fate decided to throw her way. She pulled her gaze away from the angry men and onto the ramshackle hut in the distance.

She couldn't remain on the beach. The wind was cutting through her clothes like a knife and she was shaking like a leaf. She was already frozen to the core, making her feel as though her bones were made of ice. She folded her arms around her body and began to make her way towards the only shelter in sight. The sand sucked at her feet as she trudged forwards.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Rabastan called after her.

Hermione ignored him.

"Granger," he snarled.

She huffed out a breath and spun around, fixing them both with a disgusted look. "Not that it's any of your business, seen as you were both planning to leave me here, but I'm going to that hut to get out of this bloody wind!"

She saw Rabastan's lips twitch into a smirk and she narrowed her eyes, daring him to say something. Beside him, Regulus began walking towards her, his arctic eyes flicking from her to the hut beyond. She held her breath when he passed by and pushed her feet into the sand to stop herself from flinching away. She remained that way until Rabastan strolled towards her.

"You coming with us?" His lips twitched from the smirk and into a smile.

"It's bloody windy out here."

She scowled at their retreating backs. The arrogance of Purebloods never ceased to amaze her. They truly believed they owned the world and all it contained. She shook the drenched strands of hair out of her face and started to walk. By the time she made it to the hut, both Rabastan and Regulus were inside. Although, she doubted the rough wooden walls that displayed gaps the size of her hand would be able to offer them too much protection from the raging wind. The door wasn't much better either. It hung off one hinge and was half rotten at the top and bottom. She grabbed the squishy wood and pulled it open, half expecting the hut to topple into a pile of rubble.

Regulus and Rabastan filled the small square space. Their black robes added to the shadowed interior and made it appear darker than it actually was. Weak, yellow light filtered in from a broken window on the opposite wall. The only furniture the hut contained were two small beds set in the corners and a lopsided table that stood beside the door. To her right there were black smudges on the floor and wall. In the ceiling above there was a hole that made a sucking sound every few seconds. The floor was a combination of sand and dirt, ground into a bumpy surface.

"Just in time to see us undress," Rabastan commented.

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Why on earth would I want to see that?"

She crossed her arms and glared at the smirking Death Eater.

"Oh believe me, darling girl, everyone wants to see that." He leant towards her and winked. "Even you."

She scoffed and turned away just as he began to pull off his robe. Her gaze collided with a shirtless Regulus who appeared to be either oblivious or uncaring at her presence. He had his back to her and she watched mesmerised as the ropey muscles moved under his skin. When he reached to undo his trousers, she spun around until she faced the door. She heard Rabastan chuckle and the sound caused her cheeks to flush, turning them a fiery red.

"Why can't you just dry yourself with a charm?" she muttered over her shoulder.

"Now, why didn't we think of that?" Rabastan grumbled. "Oh, right, we did and it didn't fucking work."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe it's the salt water affecting the magic."

"Can you believe her, Reg?" The sound of sliding fabric reached her ears.

"Two naked Death Eaters not two feet from her and she's speculating on the cause of our fucked up wands."

The receding blush returned to her face and she pursed her lips to prevent an angry retort from spilling out of her mouth.

"Okay, Granger, your turn."

Her eyes widened at Rabastan's words. "I am not taking my clothes off in front of either of you."

"Then you'll freeze." Regulus' unconcerned voice reached her ears and she winced. It was just so hard to believe that he was related to Sirius. They were so different; it seemed impossible that they grew up together. There wasn't a hint of charm or warmth peeping out of his grey eyes.

"I won't freeze. We'll start a fire and-"

"Without magic?" Lestrange interrupted from directly behind her.

Hermione tensed as she felt the heat of him move closer. She stared stoically at the wall and said through gritted teeth, "There are ways to make fire without magic."

Rabastan hummed his agreement into her ear. "Indeed there are," he murmured.

Hermione pressed her lips together and refused to answer him. Her stupid cheeks felt like they were melting.

"Is there a reason that you're still staring at the wall?" Lestrange asked, "Might it be that you're afraid to look at us?"

"Don't be absurd." She slid away from Rabastan and turned around but dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm going to find some wood."

"But darling girl, I have some right here."

"Oh for goodness sake," she snapped, lifting her eyes to glare at the smirking Lestrange. "This isn't a joke this is…" The words faded to dust when she saw that they were both naked from the waist up. They'd at least had the decency to wrap the threadbare blankets around their hips.

She blinked, absorbing the sight of their lean muscles and smooth skin. Regulus was pale and she could see faint purple smudges scattered across his ribs and chest. Fading bruises caused by who knew what. Rabastan's skin was a light caramel colour and lined with fine scars. They marched up and down his torso in precise lines. There were more than Hermione could count at a glance.

"Like what you see, Granger?" Rabastan said, slinging his arm over Regulus' shoulder.

Hermione's eyes flicked from the inside of his forearm to Regulus', where the dark mark was emblazoned on their flesh. "No. I don't like what I see at all."

Before either of them could reply, she marched out of the hut and towards the twisted trees that the beach backed onto. The ice-laced wind tore at her clothes and hair, tightening her skin to the point of pain. Her ears filled with the sound of crashing waves. It was a relentless noise that tugged at her nerves and made it difficult to hold onto a clear thought. She pulled in a breath, wincing when the cold air filled her throat. It felt like she was swallowing splinters of ice. She pressed a fist to her chest, the air was so cold that it felt like her lungs were burning.

Closing her eyes, she hunched over and cursed the trees. They didn't look like they were getting any closer, if anything they looked further away. She scrunched up her face and forced her shaking legs to move faster, determined to reach them before she froze. The chattering of her teeth became louder than the rushing waves and she fell into utter misery. Every step rattled her bones and she was so cold that she couldn't feel her feet or hands.

It took longer that it should have, but eventually she reached the leafless trees. The trunks were gnarled and an odd grey colour that sucked up the light. They had grown so close together that the branches had entwined and formed a knotty canopy that creaked and groaned when the wind hurtled through it. The ground was littered with broken twigs and branches and Hermione almost wept at the sight. At least she wouldn't have to spend time gathering them. She sank to her knees and began to pull them into a pile. When it was as big as she could make it, she scooped them up and climbed to her feet.

The broken ends dug into her chest and several fell from the top to hit her feet. The walk back was, if possible, even more torturous. Fierce gusts of wind blew sand into her face, the sharp edges scratching her skin. She had to duck her head and squint her eyes in the end. Every few steps she would look up to check where she was going. The entire time she was trying to recall what she knew of lighting fires without flint or matches. Tinder was needed and she recalled seeing a stick notched into a piece of wood and then rolled between the palms of the hand. Whomever had occupied the hut before them had clearly managed to make a fire. The blackened smudges proved that.

The roar of the waves filled her head, incessant as a buzzing insect. She scowled, cursing the waves, her shaking limbs, the hair that kept whipping into her eyes and the two Death Eaters who hadn't bothered to help her search for wood. In a thoroughly bad mood, she reached the door and kicked it open.

Black and Lestrange were sitting on the beds, wrapped up in the thin blankets. Hermione narrowed her eyes and dropped the pile of wood.

"Have you searched everywhere?" she demanded.

Rabastan made a point of looking around. "Well, we didn't dig up the ground but we-"

"Did you find anything?" Hermione interrupted, turning to Regulus. He was the more sensible of the two and she had a feeling he wouldn't find the situation the least bit amusing.

"No." His pale fingers pinched the blanket. "But clearly the hut has been occupied at some point."

"Yes." Hermione bent down to pick up some of the smaller sticks. "Maybe they left something outside?"

Lestrange cocked his eyebrow. "As soon as you've started the fire you can go check." He winked in that insufferably cheeky way that she was beginning to hate.

Instead of reacting, she made her way to the smoke-smudged corner and began to arrange the thinnest twigs in a small pile. "I might need you to tear some strips off one of the blankets," she murmured. "And I need to find a flat board, preferably with a hole that I can twist the stick in." She was talking to herself more than Lestrange and Black, but she did hear the sound of fabric tearing.

When she looked up, it was to see Rabastan walking towards her. Despite his earlier teasing, he appeared to be interested in what she was doing. She averted her gaze when he came closer, too aware of his bare skin and heat to feel comfortable. In his hand there was a small scrap of ragged fabric. Hermione was about to reach for it when the ground began to shake. The room tilted, knocking Hermione and Rabastan off their feet. She glanced to the side and saw Regulus holding onto the edge of the bed with a murderous expression.

Everything was moving. She could feel the ground rolling and shuddering. And then it went dark. The world stilled and Hermione could see nothing. Not a speck of light penetrated the thick blackness, it felt solid and oppressive.

"She turned the painting," Regulus' voice broke the silence.

At his words, Hermione felt her confused fear slide away. Of course that's what had happened. It made perfect sense. She could even imagine the old woman's face pulled into a malicious smile, her copper eyes bright and full of spite as she flipped the canvas over.

"Fuck." Rabastan's deep murmur came from just beside her. "I'm going to kill that bitch the first chance I get."

Hermione widened her eyes, trying desperately to peer through the dark. It was impossible. A hand reached across and collided with her hip. It was so unexpected that she let out a startled screech.

"It's just me," Rabastan muttered, patting his hand up until he reached her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded as his fingers circled her bicep.

Rabastan huffed something unintelligible beneath his breath, before pulling in an exaggerated sigh. "Calm down. It's too dark to start a fire or look around. We're going to have to wait until the old hag turns the painting again."

"That doesn't explain why you have a hold of my arm," she snapped, trying to tug away from him.

"I have your arm, darling girl, because I am going to lead you to the bed where we can sit and wait until this fucking event is over," he hissed, clearly about to lose his temper.

"But-"

"Will you both stop bickering and sit on the fucking bed," Regulus coolly interrupted.

Hermione was about to open her mouth to protest, when Rabastan pulled her forward. She stumbled, crashing into him, her cheek connecting with his ribs.

"Fuck!" He leapt away. "Your skin feels like ice."

He was right. Her skin did feel icy and she was colder than she'd ever been before. Biting her lip, she felt the burn of impending tears as their predicament finally sank in. She was stuck in a painting with two Death Eaters, wandless and freezing. Nobody knew where she was and if she didn't strip out of her wet clothes very soon, hypothermia would set in and she would die.

Misery rose up to engulf her and the first treacherous tear fell. Her head filled with visions of Ron and Harry facing Voldemort without her, of the Order believing her dead. She couldn't allow that to happen. She wouldn't.

Straightening her spine, she turned her head in the direction of Rabastan, refusing to be embarrassed about doing what was necessary to survive.

"I need to take off my clothes and then I'm going to lie on the bed. One of you will have to lie with me." She shuffled in the direction of one of the beds. "I don't care which, but I'm going to have to share your blanket and body heat."

Silence met her words. She ignored it, instead continuing to inch forward until her shins met the bed. As soon as she felt it, she began to strip off her clothes. First her jeans and then her jumper. She left her bra and knickers on. Without giving herself a single second to think, she crawled onto the bed, turned her back to the room and waited.

Twenty long seconds crawled by and then she felt the bed creak as someone climbed onto it. The rough blanket was tossed over her and a warm chest pressed against her back. An arm looped over her waist and warm breath brushed the back of her neck.

Hermione remained as still as possible, staring into the pitch-black and praying that the whole thing was a dream.


	4. Four

Hermione didn't dare open her eyes. She was too terrified of what and who she might see. The picture had been turned a few minutes ago and she could feel the daylight pressing against her closed lids. Her hands were clasped together and held up to her chest in an effort to keep warm. An arm circled her waist, the palm laying flat across her stomach and pulling her back against a strong chest. A strong, naked chest. The place where their skin met felt melded together. But what worried her the most was that she didn't know who had crawled into bed behind her. Rabastan or Regulus?

It was awkward and embarrassing, and the moment she opened her eyes it was only going to get worse.

"She awake yet?" Rabastan murmured.

"Hmm," Regulus grunted.

The sound vibrated from his chest and along the length of her back. Hermione froze. At least she knew who was behind her. Regulus Black. The knowledge of knowing who it was didn't comfort her, if anything it made her more reluctant to open her eyes.

"You can't pretend to be asleep forever, darling girl," Rabastan said. "We need your vast intellect to help us survive."

His sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife and Hermione knew he was trying to goad her into responding, but her mortification was too strong. The problem was that she didn't know how to extract herself from the tangle of Regulus' arms with any kind of grace.

Just do it! She silently hissed to herself. Just do it! Just do it!

She pulled in a steadying breath. "If you could...that is...what I mean is..." The eyes she had opened when she'd started to speak, snapped closed at the gabbled nonsense that emerged from her lips.

Thankfully, Regulus seemed to understand what she was trying to say and moved. She cringed when their skin stuck together before peeling apart. It was horrifying in its own special way. As soon as he'd stood she turned over, keeping her eyes averted from the two Death Eaters. Regulus had taken the blanket and she now found herself completely exposed. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and bent over, no doubt resembling the hag that had trapped them inside the painting. Her bra and knickers felt tissue-thin in the bright light. For once she was glad of the mass of curls that insisted on trying to cover her face. And after the drenching they'd received the day before the fluffy strands were acting even more spiteful than usual. She could barely see anything past the knotted mess.

"Well," Hermione said to the floor, "I need to dress so-"

"Your clothes are still wet," Rabastan interrupted. "But I found this for you to wear."

Hermione peeped through a gap in her hair and saw Rabastan holding a ratty shirt. She snatched it from his hand and clutched it to her chest like a shield. A flimsy, hole-filled shield that offered little but the illusion of privacy.

"You're welcome," Lestrange muttered.

"Thanks," Hermione replied sourly as she tried to climb from the bed and keep herself covered at the same time. She failed, somehow managing to display every piece of her body but her face.

"Nice," Rabastan murmured.

Hermione hissed in a breath. "You arrogant pig! How dare you make a bad situation, worse!" She tossed her stupid hair aside and gave them her best glare. "Now both of you get out. I don't want to see or hear either of you for the rest of the morning."

It was only when the door thumped shut that Hermione realised how absurd the last few minutes had been. She, a mudblood, had just commanded two Death Eaters to leave the room like naughty schoolboys and they had obeyed her and...left.

"I don't believe it," she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth, convinced that she had fallen into a dream.

But dreams didn't make your skin ache from the cold or fill your head with the sounds of the sea. Dreams didn't leave the scent of another on your skin either. Hermione closed her eyes and fought to calm her nerves. She couldn't – wouldn't – think about any of that now. She would think about starting a fire and drying her clothes.

Nodding her head, she pulled the thin shirt over her head. The frayed edge touched the back of her thighs, tickling her skin every time she moved, but at least it covered her somewhat. The twigs and branches were still in the corner, bundled into an untidy pile. Tossed on the ground beside them were several torn strips of material that Rabastan had given her the night before. She reached for them first, shredding the blanket until it resembled dried up worms. Next she stripped some bark from one of the branches and placed it on the flat piece of wood, along with a couple of strands of material. Taking another stick she began to rub it underneath the little pile she'd made.

It took her two hours to produce a puff of smoke. Three to coax a flame into life. And by the time she had, her hands and arms were aching and her temper was in shreds. As the first hour crawled by, Hermione was convinced the sticks were mocking her, refusing to burn just so she would be forced to wear the threadbare shirt in front of the Death Eaters. Starting the fire became a challenge that she wasn't going to lose. Mostly because there was no way she would leave the hut and admit to Regulus and Rabastan that she had failed. Not after she'd told them she could start the damn thing.

As soon as the flames started to grow, she fed more twigs into the flickering light, willing the fire to take hold. She bit her lip, stepped back and watched as the smoke spiralled upwards, sucked by the updraft from the hole. It hovered for a few seconds before drifting into the grey sky. She quickly added more sticks and then arranged her clothes as close to the heat as possible. Rabastan and Regulus' clothes were gone, probably grabbed by one or both on the way out. When the sound of crackling wood reached her ears, Hermione pushed to her feet. She adjusted the shirt, pushed her hair back and walked to the door.

For a moment she hesitated, embarrassment sweeping through her, but she thrust it aside and jutted out her chin. Without giving herself time to think, Hermione grasped the flimsy handle and pulled open the door. Sand blew against her with enough force to sting. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes and made her way outside. Regulus and Rabastan were nowhere in sight. Frowning, she squinted and looked across the beach. The water still crashed upon the shore and the sky looked the same angry grey, but there were no Death Eaters to be seen.

"Hello?" she called out.

No reply.

Panic filled her. What if they'd somehow managed to apparate? Or found their way out and left her behind. She sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to chest. She could feel her heart beating against her palm in a frantic rhythm.

"Where are you?! Hello?!" she screamed, fear giving her voice a squeaky edge.

"Back here!" came a reply that she could barely hear.

Hermione spun around, her legs like jelly as she made her way along the side of the hut and towards the back. Both Death Eaters were leaning against the wall, out of the worst of the wind.

Rabastan grinned. "You okay, darling girl?"

"Yes," Hermione said, folding her arms across her waist. "I started the fire, but we're going to need more wood to burn soon." She made sure to look at him as she spoke, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Regulus. She really wasn't sure she'd be able to look at him ever again.

"Is that your way of asking me to leave you two lovebirds alone?" Rabastan asked with a smirk.

"No! That's not...I didn't mean that at all." She took a step away from them, but then realised what she'd done and scowled.

"Actually, Mr Lestrange-"

"Whoa! Are you talking to me or my fucking father?" He leaned forward, his eyes flashing pale blue in the light. "Because I have to tell you, Hermione, my father isn't someone you'd want to meet. He would strip the skin from your body one piece at a time and smile at you whilst doing it."

The humour had leaked from his voice and his face had taken on a cold expression. It didn't suit him. The cruelness seemed to slide across his features like an ill-fitting mask. She saw Regulus move forward a couple of steps until he was standing in front of Rabastan.

"Perhaps you should gather the wood as Miss Granger suggested, Rab," It was spoken without inflection and Hermione was sure that Lestrange would tell him to fuck off. But surprisingly he walked away without a word.

Hermione watched as the wind pulled at his hair and cloak, tossing both aside with vindictive glee. They stood silent as he marched towards the trees. His back was perfectly straight and she had the feeling that he would snap if touched. The moment he reached the tree line, he crouched and began to pick up branches and sticks.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Regulus shift and she quickly diverted her gaze to his feet, unsure of what she should say to him. The wind hissed as a strong gust rattled the hut. "If we had some rope, we could tie it up and make a washing line. The clothes would dry in no time at all," she murmured.

"I think our biggest priority is finding food and water, don't you?" Regulus enquired in a smooth tone that for a split second sounded eerily like Sirius.

"Yes. Of course." She dared a glance in his direction, but he was looking towards the trees. "Did you find anything besides the blanket?"

Regulus turned to her. His eyes swept over her in clinical, detached way. "No. Which means the previous occupiers are either dead or hiding."

A shiver of fear slid down her spine. "Then we need to find them. We should search the trees first and then maybe the rocks after that, also-"

The clatter of wood interrupted her and she glanced to the side to see that Rabastan had returned. His features had regained their usual sardonic expression. "Has it occurred to either of you that they may have escaped the painting?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she glanced at Regulus to see that he, too, was surprised.

"You see, darling girl? I'm not just a pretty face." He winked and leaned closer, bringing the scent of damp sand. "I have all kinds of talents that I'll be more than happy to share with you. In fact both Reg and I are quite comfortable sharing, Miss Granger."

"Well." Hermione shuffled her feet, not sure if he'd meant what she thought he had. "Good for you."

He grinned, flashing perfect white teeth. "And I have a feeling that we're going to need to share in the foreseeable future. Will you be comfortable with that?"

Hermione blinked, unable to form an answer. If she said yes, then she was sure he'd say something disgustingly filthy. But if she said no, then he would accuse her of selfishness. And she still wasn't sure whether he was actually being serious or not. She didn't recall hearing anything about Regulus participating in that kind of thing with Rabastan. But then again, all sexual tales involving the Black family were usually about Sirius and his numerous conquests. Not about if Rabastan and Regulus indulged in threesomes.

She waited for Regulus to say something that would get the conversation back on track. But he remained silent, watching her with the same expression that Rabastan wore. Calculation. Interest. Her eyes widened as she realised that he was waiting to hear her answer.

"I should get the wood." She saw Rabastan grin. "For the fire," she clarified. "And then I'm going to try and accio my wand again. You two should try and find a source of water." She crouched down to pick up some of the branches. "And some food," she said as she walked away.

Her cheeks were blazing hot when she re-entered the hut. And she knew the only reason she hadn't melted on the spot was because of the years of friendship with Harry and Ron. Listening to their conversations had been enlightening to say the least. But talk of threesomes was definitely a new topic for her.

The fire was still cackling in the corner and she added a few twisted sticks to keep it going. Next she flipped over her clothes and placed them a little closer to the flames. She was pleased to note that they were almost dry. Giving them a little longer, she stood and took the opportunity to examine the room.

There wasn't anything of use, only the beds and crooked table. She checked underneath both and saw nothing. Tapping her lip she wandered to the walls and examined the pitted wood. Apart from a few smudges the smoke had caused, there weren't any marks.

"You must have left something behind," she murmured.

Her eyes dropped to the beds and the lumpy mattresses. There was nothing underneath the first, but when she lifted the second she saw dozens of lines scratched onto the slats. One thousand one hundred and fifty-nine to be precise. Hermione frowned and traced the lines with her fingertip. Were they a tally of the time spent inside the painting? That would make three years and sixty-four days.

Hermione replaced the mattress and wandered over to the fire, lost in thought. At least the wood wasn't burning too fast and it was doing a good job of keeping the cold at bay. Even so, she pulled on her clothes, sighing when she was fully dressed.

A few minutes later, Hermione was out of the door and striding across the beach. The wind whipped her hair into her face and twisted the curly strands into an impossible knot. Wave after wave crashed onto the wet sand, throwing up sprays of salty water.

Setting her feet hip-width apart, she lifted her hand and pointed it towards the churning sea.

"Accio wand!" Her words were snatched away by the wind.

One minute passed. Then two. But her wand didn't appear.

"Granger!"

Hermione spun around to see Rabastan striding towards her.

"What is it?"

"We've found a body in the woods."


	5. Five

Rabastan watched the Granger girl pale as his words sank in. It was little wonder, their situation had gone from messed up to severely fucked up in the space of a second. It seemed fate was determined to twist off his nuts and then stomp them into the sand. Including Granger in their downfall seemed the pertinent thing to do and he had to admit, if only to himself, that she wasn't entirely useless. Besides, it was fun to watch her squirm and blush at his innuendos.

"You should walk in front of me," he said as he stepped to the side and motioned for the wild-haired witch to proceed him.

"Why?" she asked.

Rabastan grinned at the frown rumpling her brow. Suspicious. He liked that. The wind whipped at his robes and he had to lean closer to be heard over the crashing waves. "So I can watch your arse as you walk."

Furious brown eyes glared at him through the tangle of her hair. "Honestly!" she huffed before marching away from him.

He didn't need to tell her which way to go, she simply retraced his footsteps in the soft sand, stomping his own prints to mush with vindictive spite. He grinned again and watched her backside sway as she marched along the beach. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as seeing her in those tight muggle trousers she usually wore, but the wind did a fine job of plastering the thin shirt to her curves. It was a shame she was a mudblood really, Rabastan had the feeling she was one of the few witches who might be able to handle both him and Reg together.

Up ahead, he saw the dark outline of Regulus standing amongst the trees. Even from a distance Rabastan could see the stiff line of his spine that spoke of his fury. It would take little to make him snap and Rabastan knew from experience that when that happened it was best to stay as far away from him as possible. People often assumed it was Bella who had the most volatile temper of the Black family, but they were badly mistaken, Regulus could sear the air when his temper broke. Yet another reason to entice the girl into some carnal fun. After all, fucking was the best form of stress relief he knew, even if it was a mudblood they'd be dipping their cocks into.

They closed the distance and he watched Granger lift up a hand and gather her hair into a tight bundle at the base of her neck. It was a vulnerable gesture that tightened his stomach and made his fingers clench in reflex. He wanted to be the one to thread his fingers through her hair, fist the strands and hold her head in place whilst he kissed her throat. Reg could stand behind her and cage the witch between them, perhaps hold her hips in place so they could both rub their erections against her. A gust of wind slammed into his back with enough force to pull him back into reality. He hadn't even noticed the sand change texture, switching from soft and spongy to gritty and hard.

Regulus turned as they approached, his face a blank mask as he forced his emotions into the dark space in his mind. The place he'd created as a small boy living under the shadow of his audacious brother and overbearing mother. It was a place that few knew existed.

The body was partially covered by sand and from a distance looked like a bump on the ground. Rabastan had stepped on top of it, almost falling when the bones had shattered beneath his weight. In the time it had taken him to retrieve the Granger girl, Regulus had managed to uncover it. Bleached bones and tattered robes were all that remained. The skull looked up at them with hollow eyes that seemed in turns to pity and find humour at their predicament.

"Any idea what happened?" Hermione asked as she bent to take a closer look.

The position caused her shirt to slide up her legs and Rabastan grinned as he stared at her bum. A very nice bum as far as he was concerned. He glanced up to see Reg looking at him and he made sure to glance pointedly at Hermione's bum again, before giving a thumbs up sign. Reg merely blinked.

"Well?" Hermione said in a cross voice. "Is no one going to answer me?"

Rab took a step towards her, bringing him within touching distance. "I'd say he died."

The witch snapped her head around to face him, brown eyes flashing in anger. "Well spotted. Would you like an award for that marvellous deduction?"

Her sarcasm was thick enough to touch.

Rab grinned and swayed towards her. "If it's you presenting it, darling girl, I wouldn't say no."

"For goodness sake! Can't you take anything seriously? There is a dead body on the ground, we're trapped inside a painting, your wands don't work, I've lost mine and all you can do is joke and make disgusting innuendos!" Hermione's voice rose steadily until she was practically screaming the last words.

"Invitations, love, not innuendos," Rab said with wink.

He watched her face flush and her hair crackle. Soft brown eyes darkened with rage as her hand reached for a wand that wasn't there. She was either going to explode or stomp away. Rabastan hoped she would explode. Hermione Granger losing control was a sight he wanted to see. But he didn't get his wish. Instead the witch turned away and marched across the beach back towards the lopsided hut.

"Did you see her hair? It practically fucking floated!" Rabastan said, his voice coated in amusement.

Beside him, Reg made a noncommittal sound. "I'm more interested in finding out what killed him and getting out of this fuckhole than the state of Granger's hair."

Rab glanced at the body. It looked like it had been there for years. There wasn't a shred of skin left on the bones and the robes were so faded he couldn't even guess at what colour they might've originally been. "How do you know it was male?" he asked, toeing one of the leg bones aside.

Black bent down and plucked a piece of the robe between his thumb and forefinger. "Clearly a man's dress robes." He rubbed the material a few times with his thumb. "And expensive."

"Find anything else?"

Grey eyes rose to look at him. "A wand." He flicked his wrist and a slim, pale length of wood appeared in his hand.

Rab reached for it. "Does it work?"

"Not for me," Regulus said, handing it to him.

Rabastan rolled the bleached wood in his palm, trying to sense the wand's magic. He felt nothing, no tingle or pulse or pinprick of pain. He might as well have been holding a stick. Regardless, he curled his fingers around it and tried to cast. Nothing happened. "The fucker won't work for me either. You think we should let the mudblood try?"

Regulus looked thoughtful for a few moments before finally shaking his head. "If we're not out in two days, I'll let her have a go."

"Fuck. You think we'll still be here that long?" He watched Reg glance at the bones which the sand had already begun to re-cover.

"Yes."

Silence descended as they contemplated the possible ramifications of that. The longer Rab stared at the bones, the more angry he became. He refused to believe they would die, it just couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. Both he and Reg had survived under the fickle rule of Lord Voldemort for years. A fucking painting would not be the cause of their destruction.

"We need a plan then," he said, determination brightening his eyes. "We keep looking until we find water and food. Granger can stock up the wood for the fire and then we figure out how to break free of this fucking place."

Reg gave him a wry look. "So what you're saying is, we're following the plan we were already following?"

Rab smirked. "Yes."

* * *

 

It was Regulus who found the water. A small stream lay hidden amongst the rocks at the far end of the beach. When Rab dipped his hand into it, he winced at the icy pain the cold water caused as it trickled over his skin. Scooping some of the liquid into his palm, he lifted it to his lips and drank, not realising until that moment how thirsty he was. It tasted brackish and left an oily sensation in the back of his throat.

Finding the water also led them to food. Small fish and what looked like freshwater shrimp darted under the stream's glittering surface. Following the stream further in land led them to a marshy area where Rab spotted some blackberry bushes and the gnarly silhouette of an apple tree. He pointed them out to Regulus, who nodded and began making his way over to them.

"You collect the berries, I'll pick some apples," he called over his shoulder.

Rabastan simply nodded, turning his attention to the long grass he'd need to walk through in order to reach the bushes. It was thigh-high, yellowish and sharp as fuck. The incessant wind whipped it against his legs with vicious glee. It felt remarkably like the cane his father had used on him as a boy. That same burning sting which tightened his muscles and stilled his breath.

By the time he'd reached the first bush, a scraggly thing with thorns the size of his thumbnail, Rab was in a foul temper. Thinking of his childhood always soured his mood; it was why he tried to forget he had a childhood at all and if he did think of it, he usually drank his weight in fire whiskey until the memories blurred and faded into oblivion. Casting his thoughts aside, he reached down to pick the first berry from the vine. It was plump and so purple it could be mistaken for black if you weren't looking at it closely. The flesh gave and a trickle of juice ran down his thumb as he plucked it free. Pulling his hand back, he plopped it into the palm of his other hand and then reached for another. A thorn scraped the top of his wrist.

"Fuck," he muttered, watching as his blood welled along the scratch. He cast a look over at Regulus, who was easily twisting apples from the low branches. "Bastard."

As if he'd heard the whispered word, Regulus looked over and Rab could swear he could see a cool smile curving Black's lips. Obviously the shit had given him the job of collecting the berries on purpose. The next ones he picked, he made sure to squash just a little bit. Once his palm was full, Lestrange turned and rejoined Regulus by the edge of the marshy scrap of land.

"You're a tosser," Rab said.

"Hmmm," Regulus agreed.

The firm marsh giving way to soft sand which trickled into his shoes as they made their way back to the hut. "Fuck it!"

"Are you going to whine the whole time we're here?" Regulus asked, glancing at Rab from the corner of his eye. "Don't answer that. I already know you are."

Rabastan barked out a laugh. "It's the fucking sand. The bastard stuff is getting everywhere." His fingers twitched to reach for his wand. But there was little point when he couldn't cast. "Fuck knows how muggles deal with it getting in every damn orifice."

"I dare say they do so without moaning," Regulus said blandly.

"Screw off." Rabastan tensed his fist, momentarily forgetting he had his hand full, and felt sticky blackberry juice seep between his fingers. His lips thinned with displeasure and he barely resisted the urge to chuck them on the beach. Only the sight of the hut stopped him. Seeking to divert his attention, he thought about its occupant. "What do you think of her?"

Regulus shrugged. "She isn't what I expected."

"Me neither." Rabastan thought about all the rumours he'd heard of Potter's pet mudblood. Annoying, buck-toothed and a font of useless information. Of course, most of the knowledge had come from Draco Malfoy and clearly he hadn't seen the truth of who she was. Hermione Granger was intelligent, feisty, brave and oh so easy to rile up. And her hair was utterly fascinating. "Would you fuck her?"

Regulus said nothing. But the lack of answer was answer enough for Rabastan.

He smirked but didn't push it any further. The rest of the trek back to the hut was done in silence or as silent as a storm-tossed sea could be. Granger was fussing with the fire when they returned, her hair floating around her head like an angry cloud. The moment they walked in she turned and gave them an unflinching look.

"What did you find?" Her eyes dropped to their hands. "Oh!" She pushed to her feet and rushed towards them.

"There's a stream by the rocks." Rabastan held the palm full of berries out to her, but instead of taking them, she picked a few up and popped them in her mouth. "It's full of fish and shrimp things."

"Hmmm. Nice," she mumbled taking a few more. "The stream's freshwater?"

"It is. Nothing to carry any back with though," Rab said, watching her frown.

A bead of purple juice perched on the seam of her lip, licked away a second later by her pink tongue. Rab was about to tell her that he would have done that for her when a white hot flare of pain knifed through the flesh of his inner forearm. He was dimly aware of Regulus cursing when the pain increased. Black spots floated across his vision and he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. Here’s the first part of the interactive section. Who do you guys want Hermione to kiss first? Rabastan or Regulus. Let me know in the comments below or if you wish you can contact me on tumblr : jheeley


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, your eyes do not deceive you. This is an update! 
> 
> Chapter beat’d by the marvellous, magnificent and masterful CatherineMorgenstern. Thank you, lovely.

Hermione watched the two Death Eaters drop to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut. The apples and berries slid from their hands to roll across the dusty floor. For a moment she just stood, frozen in place, as they lay perfectly still where they'd fallen. Her heart thudded as the seconds ticked by and they neither moved nor appeared to breathe. She blinked, before bending down to Rabastan, who was closest, to check his pulse. It was hard to find at first - he’d tumbled down at an odd angle and his shoulders were hunched around his neck - but she finally managed to press her fingertips into his skin and feel the frantic beat hidden beneath. 

Looking across to Regulus she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest as he pulled in shallow breaths. Confusion replaced her fear as she tried to figure out what was wrong with them. Was is something they'd eaten or drank? But that didn't make sense, she’d seen both men clutch at their arms a second before they’d collapsed. Reaching down, she carefully pulled up the sleeve of Rabastan’s robe and shirt, revealing the dark mark. 

It was moving. The skin rippling as the skull and snake seemed to undulate and dance. Nausea formed a clot in her chest as she figured out what was happening. They were being summoned. As she watched, Lestrange’s fingers began to curl into his palm until they resembled a tightly clenched fist. She glanced at Regulus to see that his hand was also twitching, the fingers clenched so tightly that she feared his knuckles would break through his skin. She reached forward to press a finger to the back of Rab’s wrist, not daring to touch the Dark Mark directly. 

The muscle felt solid, not because it was tightly clenched, but because it was cramping. His whole arm was. And badly, if the way his arm shook and trembled were any indication. Hermione didn't know what to do. Should she touch the mark and try to sense Voldemort’s power? No. She immediately cast that thought aside. She would not risk touching it. Removing her finger from his wrist, Hermione sat back and waited for them both to regain consciousness. The thought that they might not crossed her mind for a brief second, before she thrust it angrily aside. They would wake up. They had to. 

The first one to stir was Regulus. His pale eyelids fluttered and his breathing grew deeper. A few seconds later his fingers uncurled and his arm relaxed. Rabastan wasn’t nearly so quiet as he woke. 

“Fuck that hurt!” He pushed himself to a seated position and then cradled his arm to his chest like it was a broken bird. “Shit.” 

Hermione frowned at his language, but didn't chastise him, mainly because he would ignore her. Plus she suspected he’d swear twice as much if he knew how much it irritated her. 

“Has the pain gone?” she asked instead. 

“Yes,” Regulus replied. 

Hermione turned to see him struggling to sit on one of the beds. “Do you think…” she hesitated before finally saying, “he sensed you? Will he be able to track you through the mark? Can you use it to contact him?” 

Regulus began to frown. “I don't think so. The compulsion to obey didn't occur, but the frustration the Dark Lord felt when we didn't comply was….intense.” 

“Intense?” Rabastan barked. “Try incan-fucking-descent.”

The urge to grin at his begrudged tone was strong enough that Hermione had to turn her head away from him. She ended up facing Regulus who saw her expression and lifted a brow. 

“Are you laughing at me, darling girl?” He turned to Regulus. “Is she laughing at me?” 

“I’m not laughing,” Hermione said, trying to stop her lips from twitching. “It's just that you're behaving like a two-year-old and -” 

“Two-year-old?” Lestrange spluttered, shoving to his feet and taking the three steps needed to bring him into Hermione’s personal space. 

The warm heat of him washed against her and she stumbled back in panic, hitting the wall. It creaked and then flexed when her full weight settled against it. Rabastan placed his hands on either side of her head, crowding her as he leant forward until his breath fanned her cheek. 

“Careful, Granger. You seem to be forgetting who you're dealing with,” he whispered. 

Hermione swallowed, fear sealing her mouth closed as Rabastan rubbed his cheek against hers. She had forgotten. For a few mad seconds she had fallen into talking to them as she did Ron and Harry. A stupid mistake she would not repeat. 

“I-” 

“Yes?” Rabastan interrupted. “You...what?” 

“Nothing,” she muttered, trying to inch her way from beneath his arms. 

“That's what I thought,” he said, backing away. 

The witch remained where she was - there really wasn't anywhere to go to escape their presence in the tiny space - and wrapped her arms around her waist. A few silent moments passed, the Death Eaters content to let the tension rise until Hermione thought she might scream. 

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she spoke. “I’m thirsty, I’ll be back soon.” 

Regulus stood. 

“I don't need your help to find the stream,” Hermione said. “I’m perfectly capable of finding it on my own.” 

“I didn't intend to help you,” he said, striding to Rabastan and leaning across to whisper something in his ear. 

Hermione turned and began to make her way outside. She had to squeeze between the two men in order to reach the door, something Rabastan found hilarious. The wind slammed into her when she opened the door and she bunched her shoulders around her ears in hopeless misery. Fixing her eyes on the slick, black rocks in the distance, she began her trek. They were further away than she’d imagined, the walk made more difficult by the shoe-sucking sand and the fact one of the Death Eaters followed her, but she didn't look back to see who it was. 

As she got closer to the rocks, they seemed to deflect some of the wind, allowing her to open her eyes fully. Her hair had tangled around her face and she quickly pushed it over her shoulders. It sprang back instantly. 

“Head for the grassy bit, Granger,” Lestrange yelled from behind. 

As soon as she heard his voice, Hermione sighed. It just had to be him that had followed her. Honestly, the whole thing was ridiculous. Where on earth did they think she would run off to?

She made her way further up the beach, parallel to the rocky outcrop and onto the grassy area he’d indicated. Although the thin, knife-edged blades of grass were unlike any she'd seen before. The sharp tips poked at her shins as she searched for the stream. 

“It's just ahead,” Rabastan muttered from directly behind her. 

The stream was wider than she’d imagined. When they’d first mentioned it, she had assumed it would be a bubbling brook, something she could step across, but this was much wider than that. The water was clear at the edges, but deepened in both depth and colour towards the centre. As she grew nearer, Hermione spied fish the length of her hand flit from rock to rock, hiding in the shadows and algae. She knelt down and dipped her hand into the water. 

“It's freezing!” Hermione gasped, pulling her cupped palm from the stream. 

“Yeah,” Rabastan muttered in a distracted voice which immediately drew her attention. 

She glanced to the side and saw him dip his hand into the water and lift a wide flat stone up. “What are you doing?” 

His teeth were clenched as he used his other hand to dig into his robes and withdraw two wands. “Reg suggested we try submerging our wands in the stream for a day or two.” He placed the two wands in the water and carefully placed the flat stone on top of them. “He said it might wash the salt off them enough so we can use them.” 

Hermione blinked. “That's actually a good idea.” 

Lestrange glanced at her, a smirk hovering around the edges of his lips as his eyes squinted against the wind. “You’re not dealing with two idiot boys now, Granger.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to the water still cupped in her hand. It had warmed slightly, but still felt like liquid ice as it slid down her throat. The brackish aftertaste lasted for a second before that too melted away. She drank some more, wincing as the water settled in her stomach and sat like a lump of snow. The bones in her hand ached with the coldness of holding it and her skin was prickled and flushed red. 

“We need a container.” Hermione shoved her hand under her armpit to warm it up. “We can't keep coming out here to drink.” 

Rabastan hummed in agreement. “Pity there isn't one anywhere to be found.” 

She shot him an annoyed look. Irritation danced along her nerves when she saw him lying on his back, hands pillowing his head, eyes closed. The wind whipped his hair about his forehead, but was unable to tangle the soft strands as it did hers. A blade of grass tapped the side of his cheek as if seeking his attention. He could've been lounging by the side of the black lake instead of imprisoned in a magical painting. 

“How can you just lie there like that?” Hermione asked. 

“You’d prefer it if I lay on top of you instead?” Rabastan guessed. “I’d be happy to comply, darling girl. All you need do is come closer.” He held out a tanned hand and winked. 

Hermione tutted, desperately hoping the flush staining her cheeks wasn't too noticeable. She glanced at the churning sky, biting her lip when a dark grey cloud billowed across the horizon. 

“I think we should go back to the hut, it's-” 

“You’re right,” Lestrange interrupted, pushing himself into a sitting position. “The bed is much more preferable than the ground.”

“That's not what I meant!” Hermione snapped, her words turning to a yelp when he hauled her to her feet and began dragging her back to the hut. “You're impossible.” 

Rabastan flashed her a grin. “Careful, Granger. I’m beginning to think you like me.” 

“As if,” Hermione scoffed. 

But she didn't pull away from him, not when his body was doing a fine job of blocking her from the never ending wind. “Wait,” Hermione said, pulling on his arm. “We might as well collect more wood whilst we're here.” 

Lestrange grumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, but changed course until they reached the tangled trees. It took them five minutes to fill their arms with twisted branches and as soon as they had, they resumed their walk to the hut. Rabastan entered first, toeing the door open and plunging inside. Hermione heard the dry clatter as he dropped the wood. She followed, relieved to see the fire still burning, although, a little weaker than she would have liked. 

Dropping her own branches on top of Rabastan’s, Hermione knelt and fed a few more thin twigs into the flickering flames. Satisfied it would keep the fire going, she turned to see Lestrange sprawled across his bed. His dark eyebrows wiggled in a ridiculously suggestive way. Hermione’s response was to roll her eyes. It was only after she'd made a point of looking away from him that she noticed Black was missing. 

“Where's Regulus?” 

“Taking a look around,” Rabastan answered. 

Hermione's eyebrows dipped. “What? Where?” 

“Out there I should imagine,” Lestrange replied, lazily flinging his arm in the direction of the door. 

“But when will he be back?” Hermione stood and walked towards the tiny window. “I’m not sure it's safe to wander around alone.” 

Rabastan chuckled. “The only dangerous thing out there is Reg, darling girl.” 

Hermione made to reply, but the distant rumble of the ground moving reached her ears. “She's turning the painting again.” She dropped to the floor before she could fall and waited with gritted teeth for the room to stop shuddering. 

It didn't go black this time. The small flames were able to penetrate the blanketing darkness. Hermione blinked and turned her gaze away from the bright light. Her eyes sought out Rabastan. Most of him was wreathed in shadow, but she was still able to make out his eyes. They glinted in an odd way as they stared at her. 

“The offer still stands, Granger.” He patted the bed beside him. 

Hermione's reply was to climb into the unoccupied bed and turn her back on him. “We’ll take it in turns sleeping. The fire mustn't go out. I’ll take the first shift.” 

Rabastan sighed. “You aren't going to be this boring the entire time, are you?” 

“Yes,” she said. “Now I suggest you try to sleep.” She hesitated before finally saying, “Do you think Regulus will be okay?” 

Rabastan was silent for a long moment. So long, Hermione thought he wouldn't answer. But then finally he said, “He’s been taking care of himself longer than you’ve been alive, Granger.” 

Neither of them spoke after that. Both content to listen to the whistling wind and crackling flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I guess you guys now know who won the vote. It was pretty close for a while, but Rab finally came out on top. I’m blown away by how many of you voted. You guys are THE best. Hugs to you all. I can also assure you that the next update won’t be nearly as long. It’s already been written in fact, so expect it to drop soon. (Now I have a favour to ask. I have a tumblr account (jheeley), which I’ve been neglecting lately. I’ve lost touch with a few people but have a bunch of tagging games sitting in my inbox. Anyone who has an account and doesn’t mind being tagged in on them, pretty please let me know?) 
> 
> The vote results were = Rab 33…..Reg 32…..and three people voted for them both to kiss her at the same time. (NOTE: The votes were counted from FFnet and Ao3)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying something a little bit different with this fic. I’m making it interactive. You guys will get a say in certain aspects of the story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
